Perchance to Dream
by mysticxf
Summary: Sawyer gets a little taste of Henry’s medicine. Written prespoilers vids.


Lost and its characters belong to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot and The Others. Sawyer gets a little taste of Henry's medicine. (Written pre-spoilers vids.)

Lost – Perchance to Dream  
By Mystic  
August 2006

He knew he was dreaming because he woke up on The Couch. The one he used to see in catalogues when he was working on cons. The women would be getting ready and they all had them lying on the coffee table. Dreams of their own – houses they'd like to furnish with expensive leather and cute little knick knacks. Sawyer always found it. It was like destiny. Perfect brown suede, pop up leg rests and a pocket on the side for the TV guide and remotes.

Once he went into a furniture store just to sit on it. Of course it was heaven. His body sinking into the cushions, his hand brushing the soft material underneath it with a longing he didn't think he could have for something so unnecessary.

But now he opened his eyes and he felt the suede under his fingertips and he knew he was dreaming. Something Henry cooked up? Or something his mind cooked up as a result of something Henry pumped in him, he couldn't tell, but he wasn't gonna stop it. Sawyer didn't mind the games, he kind of enjoyed them. Fuck with my head, he challenged.

Bring it.

It was just who he was. He wondered how Jack and Kate were faring. What they were studying in their cute little cells. His had a poster of horses on it, some throwback to his childhood. Maybe they thought it would jar him. Instead he poked at it and threw himself into the rickety bed they'd given him and he went to sleep. Hell, without the distractions of the stupid tree frogs, or the waves, or the constant whining of the people on the beach, he actually felt rested when the big guy came in to take him to their labs.

They strapped him to a chair as he groggily made jokes. He figured now wasn't the time to start fights, even though it might be fun to fuck with them a little. Give 'em a taste of their own medicine, so to speak. But Sawyer wasn't sure what their medicine was. So he smiled at Henry and he challenged him, "Yo Hatch Monkey, you got some Xanax in that stash of yours?"

The strange little man smiled at him something creepy.

Now he looked around at the silent house around him. He felt like he'd been there before, but he knew he hadn't. It was some construct of his mind. Some melding of all his favorite parts of his life. He heard some thumping coming from upstairs and he lowered his eyebrows curiously, standing. Sawyer turned once to look at it, the indentation of his body still there, as if waiting for him to return, before starting up the stairs.

They were the see through kind. Just a step covered in light carpet to match the rest of the house. The kind is uncle had. Sawyer remembered running up the stairs as fast as he could when his uncle would come looking to beat him. He'd giggle all the way knowing he deserved a whipping, but his uncle was old and made it halfway up before shouting, "Come back down here boy!"

He'd never come back down. He'd go up to his room and read.

She laughed somewhere upstairs and he straightened. No longer amused so much as confused. Sawyer had dreams about Kate about as often as he dreamed, but they were never in cozy quiet houses. Usually they were in sultry hotels or the back of nice cars. He knew it was wrong somewhere deep inside, but he also knew he wasn't sorry for it. She shouted a name he didn't recognize, but somehow did.

"Stop that," came her voice down the hall as he peeked his head around the corner. It was coming from a room at the end. A room that had hardwood floor and a bed with a set of blue sheets hanging lazily off it. Sawyer rubbed his chin, pushing at the stubble there before putting his hand through his hair and starting to walk towards the room.

"Kate?" He asked, his hand pressing into the door and shoving it open.

"Hey there, daddy," she responded, her arms wrapped tightly around a blonde little boy who stared up at him with a wide grin and bright blue eyes. Eyes he knew all too well. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as he stared. He watched Kate's face drop sadly and she released the boy who crawled underneath the bed. "What's wrong?" Kate asked him, her hand coming up to touch his chest.

Sawyer shook his head, his eyes coming closed and he felt her hand travel up towards his cheek, caressing him the way he wished she would. "This is a dream," he told her gruffly.

"It's not a dream, silly," she gave him a peck on the lips. "Get Jason ready for school, I'll go make breakfast."

"Jason," he repeated. "My boy."

She slapped his arm. "Yes, your boy who wants to spend his morning reading under the bed instead of getting dressed." Her hand slid off him and he heard her footsteps go quickly down those stairs. "Hurry up."

Sawyer stood in the middle of the room, waiting to wake up. He shook his head, closing his eyes again. "Ok, Henry, this game's been fun and all, but it's time for the gameover."

He felt a tug on his shirt and heard a soft voice say, "Daddy?"

His hand came out, almost instinctively, and touched the boy's head, feeling the thin hair there. He opened his eyes and looked down at him, watching his concern shift as his lips spread into her awkward grin before ducking away shyly and going back under his bed to pull out a book. "Look, my teacher gave me this book to read, says it's higher than my grade level, but that I'm smart enough to read it. Isn't that cool?"

Sawyer looked at The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Saw the bookmark pressed into the middle of the book. "That's good, son," he told him, sitting on the bed. He listened to it creak under his weight and he looked back up at the boy standing in front of him. "What?"

"It's like you and mom, sorta." The boy gave him a toothy grin and then ran out of the room.

Sawyer shook his head again. Mom. He put his hands on his head, feeling it start to pound with confusion before he opened his eyes again. Now he was awake. He knew he was awake because he could see Henry taking notes at a desk at his side. He wrote vigorously, his eyes narrowed into slits. Then he looked up and his mouth formed an o of surprise. "Huh," he uttered.

"That all you got to say?" Sawyer slurred.

"You weren't supposed to wake up," Henry told him with a short bob of his head, as if humoring him. "You'll probably drift back soon," he pointed at a woman who moved towards the machines behind Sawyer.

"What if I don't wanna go back to sleep?" He growled.

"You don't want to go back to your wife and child."

"Ain't my wife and child, Freud." There were a few clicks behind him and his eyelids dropped heavily. "What kind of games we playin' here?"

"Just learning a little more about you." Henry hugged the board to his chest. "I bet you're learning more about yourself as well."

Sawyer's head rolled back and he could already hear her voice calling him, the smell of bacon invading his nostrils and he fought it, staring at Henry as Henry stared back waiting. Henry's eyes flicked to the woman behind him and Sawyer heard another series of clicks and his head fell onto the pillow.

Finis


End file.
